


Darkness Within

by dragyn42



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: D/s, Dubious Consent, F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-23
Updated: 2014-12-23
Packaged: 2020-03-09 05:42:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,148
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18910714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragyn42/pseuds/dragyn42
Summary: A ritual gone wrong ended the war, but will it end Harry’s chance for a happy ending?





	Darkness Within

**Author's Note:**

> Exchange: smutty_claus 2014  
> To: lord_spyridon
> 
> This was a fun one. A little dark, but hopefully enough fluff as well. And, of course, sex. I hope you like it, lord_spyridon.

Harry would never get tired of this. Could never, really. The feel of his fiancée on him, a wet, tight vice surrounding him. Her cries of orgasmic passion filling the room. The feel of their smacking skin, sharp and staccato amidst the all consuming pleasure. Her eyes, cutely scrunched when closed, glazed, brown, and beautiful when open. The freckles that dusted her nose and cheeks, framed by flaming red hair, and the tips of her teeth under her lip, which was contracting in pleasure.

He slammed his cock into her, repeatedly. He felt the fire blaze through him, demanding more. Demanding her. And her moans, her cries, all appeased the monster in him, telling him she was, in fact, totally his. And the monster howled. And he howled. And she howled, squeezing him ever more tightly. And, finally, he erupted into her, laying the final, ultimate claim.

Collapsing forward, Harry relished her warm, sticky, smooth skin on his. Her arms wrapped around him and pulled him in tight. Her hands stroked up and down his back as he kissed her on the jaw, just behind her ear, drawing post-orgasmic mewling from her. It was one of Harry’s favorite sounds from Ginny, and extremely erotic. His softening erection immediately reversed course, hardening inside of Ginny.

“Mmmmh, no, Harry,” she moaned, her voice still throaty from their activities. “Three is enough, and you’re getting rough again. I’m going to be so sore tomorrow.”

Harry’s own protests lacked any real words, and he growled into her ear.

“I know, love,” she said. “I really wish we could keep doing this, it’s amazing. But...”

Her objection lacked any malice, and she sounded honestly disappointed. She and Harry had done everything possible early in their relationship to try and reconcile his sexual drive, but it was beyond them. He gave another growl – somewhat of a whimper, really – and kissed her neck, rocking himself slowly inside of her.

“Harry, please,” she said.

Reluctantly, he rolled over, pulling out of her, and sat on the side of the bed, his building frustration evident.

“Go, take care of yourself. I’ll still be here in the morning,” she said sadly.

He stood up, without bothering to dress himself, and angrily shuffled towards the door.

“Harry,” she called from the bed. He turned to look, and no matter how angry he was, he just couldn’t be mad at her. She was a vision of beauty. Her pale skin stood out against the dark sheets of their bed. Her freckles – one of her best features in his opinion, though not hers – still stood out, dark from their shared pleasure. She, like him, had not covered herself, and her perfect breasts stood small yet proud on her chest. But the most beautiful thing about her, more than all of that, was the love she held for him in her eyes. “I love you, Harry.”

“I love you, too, forever,” he replied gruffly, the love he felt for her fighting the building anger over the denied need inside of him. And if he didn’t satisfy that need soon, he was going to jump her in the bed and take her, hard, whether she wanted it or not.

Quickly, he slipped out the door and made his way down the hall. The door to his destination was closed, but that was no problem; it was never locked to him. He reached for the handle and pushed the door open. The door swung silently on its hinges, and it was only the _thump_ of it hitting the wall that caused the occupant of the room to wake.

Her eyes startled open and she half sat up, her awareness slowly focusing on Harry in the doorway. Her hair, its color indeterminately dark in the low light of the room, usually fell sleek and straight, down to her upper back. Now it was sticking untamed about her head and shoulders, covering in part the front of her nightgown. Her dark eyes, momentarily highlighted in stark contrast by the whites of her widely open lids, shifted from surprise, to sorrow, to anticipation.

With a practiced movement, Daphne kicked off the sheets covering her. Her diaphanous nightgown left nothing to the imagination, and through it, Harry could easily see she wore nothing else. She lay back the bed, her knees apart, and held her arms out to him.

The position was in no way sexy, or romantic. It was, however, especially with her lack of cover, inviting, which was all Harry wanted. He quickly stormed over to the bed, his anger at not being with Ginny now focused on his new partner, and he crawled over her, pushing his way into her roughly. She winced, not that he cared, and groaned out as, with no other warning or pretense, he began to repeatedly slam into her.

The voice that had so adamantly drove him to claim Ginny, to make her his, now practically yelled in his head, feeding off his displeasure and fanning it hotter. The rage in his chest was crying out, 'Yours! Use! Punish!' This was all her fault, after all.

All that mattered now was his own release, his own satisfaction. He could feel the rage and hate build up, and, after several minutes, it shot forth from him as he cried out in frustration. He emptied himself into her, but he only grew angrier. This wasn't right. It wasn't Ginny.

And with even more fury, he drove into her again. Each time he sunk into her, their skin _smacked_ loudly, punctuated by a cry from her. Somewhere, amidst the roaring in his ears and the driving force in his chest, he knew that her voice was rapidly growing hoarse, but he really couldn't find it in himself to care.

Once again, his ire and pain built up over the minutes of using her, and once again, he roared out his release as the pleasure from orgasm was powerless against the overwhelming need in him.

Harry grabbed Daphne by her hips, pulling them up off the mattress, and used his upright position to pound even more forcefully into her. She was now only a tool. A means for him to act out his baser instincts that were demanding fulfillment.

Finishing again into her yet again, the pleasure of release was more noticeable, though there was almost no reaction from her anymore. She lay, sweat slickened and pale, her eyes glazed as she stared at him.

But the monster had taken over now, and could only be subdued in one way.

The need, the drive to take her, to use her, to prove she was his was all that he could think about. He laid her back onto the bed, arched himself over her, and with all the force he could muster, strengthened by the darkness in full blossom within him, he once more began pounding into her.

Despite what he was, what she made him, he was still human, mostly, and now his muscles were crying out in soreness and pain. Sweat dripped heavily off of him, splashing onto his partner, his bonded tool. He gave completely into the demon inside of him, aware, vaguely, that his body’s fatigue would prevent any severe damage to Daphne – probably.

Her weak, tired moans every time he speared her with his cock were imperceptible to his ears. The pounding of his heart, the shouting of his breath, the roaring of the monster, all worked to drown out everything else. The anger in him, though, was cracking, giving way to what could be his largest orgasm of the evening. And he needed it.

Pounding into her relentlessly, he craved his release. The pleasure called to him. The pressure built within him. And in one infinite moment, he yelled out as, finally, the pleasure of completion washed through him, silencing his demons, and clearing away all the anger that had been controlling him.

He was floating, he reveled in the joy, and then he fell forward, half covering Daphne. His cock fell out of her for the first time since he entered the room, drawing a sigh from the girl. He did his best to pull her into an embrace, though their position made it difficult, and her arms wrapped around him as she turned into his body.

He faded off to sleep, blackness encroaching, and he could hear her whispers in his ear. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

* * *

Someone was kissing his cheek.

“C’mon, honey. Time to wake up.”

Their positions had shifted in the night. Daphne now had her back to him, curled into his chest. His arms were around her, cupping her breasts. Their larger size was the clear, immediate indicator that he was with Daphne and not his beloved.

“Harry, love, time to wake up,” came the voice again. And another kiss. It was Ginny’s voice.

He was finally able to crack his eyes open, the bright light of day making it hard to see. Slowly, the dark, dirty blond of Daphne’s hair came into focus. From there, he was able to turn his head to find Ginny looking down at him, a smile on her face.

“Good morning, sunshine.” There was a sparkle in her eyes, as usual after they made love. She had obviously run a quick brush through her hair, though hadn’t actually gotten ready for the day, and was in a simple dressing gown. “Time to get up. I’ll be in the kitchen with Kreacher, getting breakfast.”

Practically skipping out of the room, Harry marveled at her. She was always in a cheerful mood after a night of lovemaking, and somehow even more beautiful – to him at any rate. Harry considered himself beyond lucky that she loved him, and that she put up with him, despite his issues.

Working at getting his arms free from his bed partner, she began to shift.

“You awake?”

“Mmmm,” was the only answer he got.

“Should I tell Kreacher to expect you for breakfast?”

“’ventually,” she murmured.

“Okay. Rest well. I’m heading down.”

There was no response, other than a brief adjustment of her position allowing him to untangle himself from her. He slipped out of bed and padded over to her dresser. While the room was hers, he kept spare clothes in her room for obvious reasons. He threw on boxers and an undershirt, grabbed his spare robe, and made his way back to his bedroom and his morning rituals.

Eventually, he found himself in the kitchen where, at the table, Ginny was just tucking into some eggs and bacon. She looked at him and graced him with a loving smile. Walking over to the table, he sat down next to her and kissed her cheek. Or, that was his intent. The little minx turned her head and partook of a full on snog, right at the breakfast table. Right now, all was right with his world.

A snarky clearing of a tiny elvish throat, mixed with the clatter of a plate dropped on the table, caused them to break apart, though not with any speed, and several more kisses stolen.

“Good morning, Master Harry. Your breakfast, sir,” announced the wizened old elf.

“Thanks, Kreacher,” said Harry, unable to remove the goofy smile from his face.

The elf turned back to the counters and finished cleaning up from the breakfast preparations, all the while mumbling about ‘proper masters’ and ‘table decorum.’ Kreacher had taken it upon himself to train Harry in the ways of proper wizards, for which Harry was actually grateful. Though, often, the results of his teachings involuntarily took a back seat to Harry’s personal activities, of which Kreacher was fully aware.

It didn’t stop the complaining, though.

Ginny and Harry ate their breakfasts, all the while smiling at each other, rubbing against each other, and mostly acting like ridiculous teenagers – which wasn’t really far from the truth. Near the end of their mealtime antics, Daphne walked slowly and carefully into the room.

It was clear to everyone that she was limping, and that even walking caused her a fair amount of pain. But as she sat across from the couple, she gave them both a warm smile.

“Good morning,” she greeted them.

“It’s getting worse,” said Ginny without any preamble.

“It’s fine,” said Daphne. “I’m fine.”

Harry felt the happiness from moments ago slipping away.

“No, you’re not fine,” said Ginny, sternly. “You can barely walk.”

“I know that,” snarled Daphne. “But it’s no more than what’s right. I did this. It’s my fault. This is what I am now, and it’s what I want.”

“He almost began hurting me!”

“Which is why you sent him to me! That’s how it goes!”

“Quiet!” said Harry, the command clear. “Both of you.”

Ginny looked over to Harry, worry evident in her expression. Daphne gripped the edge of the table, her knuckles turning white.

“Mistresses know better than to upset the Master,” said Kreacher from his cleaning. “Everyone should be calming down.”

There was a brief moment of silent breathing, when finally Ginny said, “You’re right, Kreacher.”

She looked Daphne in the eyes and said, earnestly, “I’m sorry.” Then she cuddled into Harry’s side, wrapping her arm around him and kissed him. “Calm down, love. We’ll get through this. We always do.”

Daphne looked to Ginny for permission, and at the redhead’s nod, came around to the other side of the table, sitting next to Harry and pressing against him as well as she could.

“Mine,” whispered Harry.

“Yes, Harry, we’re both yours. Always,” said Daphne.

Harry could feel the tension leech out of him thanks to his girls.

“I hate to bring this up,” said Ginny, “But my statement still stands. It’s getting worse. Just look at this. A minor tiff and he was ready to lash out.”

“No, you’re right,” said Daphne. “Last night _was_ bad. It’s just... I like it.”

“I know,” said Ginny. “I guess that’s what makes this so hard for me. You can do that for him. I can’t.”

“I have to do that for him. It’s why I was picked,” commented Daphne. “But he loves you, Ginny. He loves you more than anything. You know that, right?”

“I know,” said Ginny, kissing Harry again.

“Master,” chimed in Kreacher, now standing across from them at the table. “If I may?”

“You don’t need to ask permission to say something, Kreacher. You know that,” said Harry, his voice still a little stiff.

The elf snapped his fingers and an ancient tome appeared in his arms. He placed it onto the table, dust flying up from the cover, and said, “It took longer that Kreacher would have liked, but he found this in the old masters’ library. It should help.”

With a crack, the elf was gone.

 _The Evil of Sex_ was writ in an old style script, embossed in gold leaf. The leather cover was at one point well oiled and maintained, but now was drying. Daphne gasped. Harry reached out and opened the cover, flipping past the first several pages. Inside, on old and heavy parchment, black ink long since faced to a dull brown, were images of demons along side the text. It read ‘Incubii and Sucubii.’

“She... that’s...” stuttered Daphne.

“What?” prompted Ginny.

“When she... convinced...” started Daphne.

“Blackmailed,” Harry interrupted.

“When she blackmailed me into this, she had a copy of that book,” explained Daphne.

“Which means she knew,” said Ginny. “This was never about you controlling him for them, this was about them controlling him through you.”

Daphne nodded dumbly at the book.

“They were never going to keep your family safe,” said Harry. He turned through the book, several pages at a time, and stopped when he saw the words large and clear at the top of a chapter: _Summoning and Binding_.

Daphne stared at the chapter. The words, the rituals, she knew them. She had been made to learn them. But there was more in this book. And it stated the exact opposite of what she had been told...

* * *

“So, what do you say, little girl?”

Daphne looked around the room. Death Eaters had her family held at wandpoint. They were tied and trussed, going nowhere. And the maniac, Bellatrix, was staring at her, dark eyes bright.

“Your family will be safe. All you need to do is bind yourself as our Lord desires. You will, of course, be in control,” the mad witch explained. “And think about it. Sex, whenever your hormonal, adolescent body desires, however you desire, with Potter himself. He will be bound to you, to your sexual bidding. And with you in control, our Lord wins.”

She would save her family, of course. And the truth was, Potter was rather attractive. Many wizards would take advantage of her... proclivities. But if she was in charge... This could turn out well, but she had seen bad things happen to those who helped the Dark Lord. Not as bad as those who didn’t help him, of course. But asking a random schoolgirl didn’t seem his style.

“Wh... why me?” asked Daphne. 

“Your father had some outstanding debts with some of our Lord’s more ardent supporters. That you were Potter’s age, and perfect for this ritual, was just our stroke of luck. So we’re calling in the debts on their behalf,” she said, dismissive of Daphne as any real import. “Everyone wins.”

But could she do it? Bind another person to her, take total control of them. All for the Dark Lord? And _demons_! Nothing good ever came from messing with demons.

Her family would be safe, though. And more than anything, that was most important. She never wanted to be involved of any of this. It wasn’t like she hated or had it out for Potter, not like some of her house mates. But if doing this, if taking sides, would keep her family safe...

“And I have your... your word: my family will be safe?” she asked. It was the crux of her decision.

“Of course. It wouldn’t do to upset our leash, now would it?”

Drawing in a deep breath to steady herself, she announced her fateful decision...

* * *

The book in front of her, the same book that bitch Bellatrix was reading from, spelled out in great detail that which it had taken them several months to discover on their own. It even explained how it could kill them all – which it almost did.

Right in front of her was the ritual, spelled out in precise detail, that the summoner bound themselves to the incubus or succubus, an outlet for their unsated, sexual desires. The benefit, however, was everlasting youth and beauty, perfect health, all as long as the sexual demon remained. The demon would remain for as long as it got sex – from whoever was around. And the demon would protect its bonded, for if the summoner were destroyed, the demon would return to its own origin. And the host with it.

It was now clear that was their plan.

Unfortunately, there was a catch, a disrupting factor within the ritual. The host could not be in love with anyone other than the summoner. They didn’t _have_ to be in love at all, but if they were... And everyone knew that Harry had dumped Ginny before disappearing. The Death Eaters were incapable of figuring out that was because he loved her.

His stupid, insane nobility. It actually saved them all.

If the summoner loved someone else, the love they felt would corrupt the ritual and fully bind the demon within the host. The host would remain in control for most things. Sex, however, would allow the demon influence over the host. And the demon would be angry.

It had taken them months after Voldemort’s defeat to figure it out. Harry was becoming too rough with Ginny. When she turned him away, he flew into a rage, though never hurt her. Aware of, though reluctant to acknowledge, his bond with Daphne, the couple tracked her down and forced her to help them.

Their friends – those very few they trusted with the information at any rate – had spent days and weeks at a stretch doing research. The final parts of their problems had been pieced together by Hermione and Bill.

Ultimately, they had determined that Harry’s love for Ginny would prevent him from hurting her, though the demon would require him to claim her. But the more sex they had, the more the demon came to influence Harry. It’s anger at being trapped would leech into their activities. Without another sexual outlet to pacify the incubus within him, one with which he could work out his rage, he would become violent and destructive.

That was where Daphne came in. She was still bound as summoner to the demon, and therefore to Harry. Without the demon in control, most of the luxuries of the summoning were lost to her. Yet, whatever Harry needed, sexually, she was still compelled to supply.

And now the book confirmed all their research and guesswork.

“They were going to kill me. And my family,” Daphne realized aloud.

“They were,” agreed Harry.

“Instead, I’m bound to your violent impulses.”

“You are.”

“You wanted control. You tried to take him from me,” said Ginny. There was no accusation in her voice. They had long since learned each others motivations that led to their current household.

“I needed to save my family.”

“I know.”

The trio stared at the ritual in silence. It was Ginny who eventually broke it.

“We were all betrayed.”

* * *

“So, Harry Potter,” came the sibilant, snake like taunting of Voldemort. “All you must do is give yourself up, and all your little friends here can go free.”

Ginny, Hermione, Luna, Susan, and others that he recognized from the D.A. were tied up and on their knees outside of the circle, held under guard of several of the Slytherins. They were obviously not to be a part of whatever ritual Voldemort had concocted. Ron and Neville were unconscious on the other side of the room. They had put up a fight.

All he had to do was give himself up, give himself to Voldemort, and his friends would go free. While Tom had stated he would not be killed, he held no illusion that there was any truth to that. But if it kept his friends safe...

If it kept Ginny safe...

It was all he could do not to look at her. He had made the mistake once. Her eyes lovingly defiant. She told him with a single glance not to give up. Not to give in. And his resolve almost broke. But she had to be kept safe. So he kept his gaze on the serpentine face of his foe.

“Fine,” he said. He shut his eyes against the disbelieving cries of his friends. His bound hands kept him from covering his ears.

The ritual itself was rather short. And his position as host meant he did pretty much nothing but sit there.

A Slytherin girl, Daphne Greengrass he thought her name was, stepped into the circle, looking at him with an apology. He figured she was forced into this, the same as him. There was no other reason he could think of to use a random schoolgirl rather than one of his chief followers.

Not unless the risk was high enough to need someone expendable.

Either way, she obviously wasn’t jumping into this with both feet.

Near the end of the chanting, Daphne made a superficial cut on her hand with a curved, silver knife, and dripped the welling blood into a copper bowl. He could feel the growing power within the circle. He could feel the darkness creeping into him. His penis rose quickly in erection at the force of lust taking over his very soul.

But his lust, and his new, painful, erection, only focused his thoughts one place: Ginny. He looked at her with his last thought, wanting to see her safe. To know that his love was there for him.

His shifting vision saw her, afraid, but watching him. Her brown eyes, shining with tears, held her love for him. She met his gaze and smiled at him, for his benefit he knew. But then something odd happened. The dark was pulled into his very center, as if by a whirlpool. He could feel himself, and more importantly, his love for Ginny, overcome whatever demon they had tried to make of him.

The lust that had built within him from the ritual was too much for his own body, and it was expelled from him in a powerful, physical burst. Like a scythe, it cut through all that stood against him and his feelings for Ginny. Death Eaters fell in twain, blood gushing over the floor from their severed halves.

The power passed harmlessly through his friends, and by virtue of the ritual, Daphne as well, until it reached Voldemort, sat upon the throne he had fashioned for himself to watch the ritual.

He was not cut in half. Whatever magics Voldemort had worked upon himself attempted to fight off his impending doom. But even his strength was not enough against the ancient rituals containing powerful demonic energies, and when his spells were undone, so was he. He disintegrated into so much dust, blown away by the last of the forces of the spell.

The war was over.

* * *

“This doesn’t really change our situation,” said Harry.

“Actually, it does,” said Daphne. “Every time you have sex, you run the risk of releasing the angry demon within you. You won’t hurt Ginny, which is why you come to me.”

“We know that, Daphne,” snapped Harry.

“But, you’re not getting rid of the anger, Harry!” Daphne snapped back. “You’re more and more angry each time.”

“I...” he started.

“I know,” Daphne continued. “I want it rough, and until now, it’s been enough to satiate the incubus. But its anger grows, Harry.”

“It’s true, Harry,” said Ginny. “I’ve seen it. You get angry over the littlest things. And when you do, more and more, you have to go to Daphne. It’s destroying you.”

Harry let out an angry yell. It was all so ridiculous. Voldemort and his chief bitch had ruined his life, even with Tom’s death.

He looked at Ginny, but her sympathetic, loving face only made him angrier. He couldn’t hurt her.

Turning the other direction to Daphne, he proved their very statements by grabbing her by the throat, forcing her to stand, and then shoving her over the table. He clawed at his own boxers, and once free, he yanked up on her gown and shoved his cock into her, shouting out his frustration and anger as he hammered away. Between his thrusts and her legs getting crushed against the side of the table, Daphne’s rough voice cried out repeatedly.

It was quick this time. But, unlike the recent progression of his sexual needs, there was no suppression of that joyous feeling that came with completion. He cried out as he spilled into her, his frustration pouring out of him.

He fell backwards onto the bench, realizing what just happened, and turned to see Ginny staring at him, tears leaking from the corners of her eyes.

“I’m... I... Ginny, I’m so sorr...”

“No, Harry,” she cut him off. “It’s okay. Really. I love you so much, I just... I can’t stand to see you in pain like that. And I can’t do anything like that for you.”

She leaned in to kiss him, and Daphne finally slid backwards herself, still breathing heavily. She was now seated on the table bench, but her head was cradled in her arms on the table. She was out.

“She’ll be fine, Harry. I know you have trouble with it, but that’s what she _wants_ from you,” said Ginny, trying to keep him calm. “We’ll figure this out. I waited so long for you. I’m not going to let some stupid Death Eater ritual take you away from me.”

“Okay,” he whispered to her. “How can you watch that? How can you stay here when I’m shagging some other girl.”

“It’s not you, Harry. It’s that thing inside of you. I’ll always be here for you.”

“I love you so much.” He kissed her again, loving her even more.

“I know, love. Come, show me.”

She stood and stepped back, grabbed him by the wrists, and gently led him up the stairs to their bedroom.

With speed and grace, her gown and undergarments were on the floor, and she was sitting on the edge of the bed, waiting for him. He approached her, his own clothes following hers onto the floor, and knelt in front of her.

“You’re my everything. I hope you know that,” he said, as be began worshiping her breasts.

“Mmmm. Always, love.”

Using his hands, he massaged her torso, her stomach, her waist, as he licked, kissed, and nibbled at her breasts. He wanted to do everything he could to show her that he loved her.

He kissed up her chest, licked her neck, and nipped at her ear, drawing cute, little moans from her. His hands had followed him up and were kneading at her breasts, pinching their nubs, pulling at them.

As she began moaning even louder, he slowly laid her back on the bed, kissing her the whole way down do the mattress.

“Are you sure you’re not too sore?” he asked, concerned.

“It doesn’t matter, Harry. Please, show me you love me.”

He pressed himself against her entrance, pushing with ever increasing pressure, until he finally slid into her. Ginny gasped aloud, her arms squeezing tightly around him. When she moaned once again, he continued his slow entry, until he was seated completely into her.

Harry would never get tired of this. He _could_ never get tired of it, it was his nature. The soft, wet, tightness surrounding him. The incubus that had been merged with him, hidden now deep in his soul, required it. He required the love, physical and mental, of his amazingly beautiful, not to mention fiercely patient fiancée. He needed to know that she was his, and he needed her to know that he would love her, always and forever.

All of that, he transmitted through their joining as he moved in her. His passion filled him, and he did his utmost to make it fill her, too. He slid slowly in and out of Ginny, relishing the sensations of their joining. Each time he pushed back in, his heart leapt in his chest, which caused him to push even harder, and faster.

The pace of their lovemaking increased. Ginny was crying out now, holding tightly to Harry as he drove into her. The pressure and joy of their mating was building at the base of his cock. With every smack of their skin, he was happier and happier. He had lost complete track of time, lost track of himself. His entire world was only him inside of Ginny. And then she tightened around him, squeezing him with a cry, and he poured himself into her. His orgasm, his love, his complete essence, was hers.

They had been laying on the bed, simply enjoying each other for several minutes post-coitus, when a noise at the door caught their attention. Daphne was standing there, holding the book, a serene smile on her face, staring at the two of them.

“That was the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” she said.

In fact, she had instructions never to intrude on their space. The first time she had tried, Harry got angry and took her to task for it. A full night of literally nonstop sex left her unable to walk the next day. She had missed work, he was still angry, and it was generally a bad thing all around. But now, he couldn’t seem to find it in himself to be upset. He was with Ginny, and they loved each other.

“You’re not angry?” Daphne asked.

“Not really, no,” confirmed Harry. Ginny sat up in surprise, covering herself with the sheets, and looked at him.

“I know why,” Daphne said, triumphantly. “I know how to fix this.”

Ginny was now looking at Daphne, her face eager with longing. “How?” she asked.

“It’s all right here,” said Daphne, indicating the book by holding it up. “I found it after I came to.”

She came over to the bed and sat at the bottom, across from them. She flipped the book around and placed it between them, opened to a page marked with a napkin.

“Here,” she said. “It was after the first set of warnings. We just needed to turn the page.”

Harry and Ginny read through the next couple pages, but didn’t really see the answer Daphne had.

“Harry’s bond was being pulled in two. His incubus is tied to be, but he is tied to you. He has to know that we’re not vying for him.”

“I knew that. I love Ginny. You’re there for what she can’t handle. What’s different?” asked Harry.

“You knew that, in theory. But we, Ginny and I, never really did anything to help you understand it. Ginny ignores me whenever you and I are together. You keep me away from the two of you. We’re all three friendly, and the household has worked until now, but Ginny and I were two separate things. And your need for one of us drove you to the other,” Daphne tried to explain.

“But, I watched, earlier. I didn’t leave when he took you,” realized Ginny.

“Right! Just _being_ with me didn’t make him angry at not being with you.”

“So... this means... what?” asked Harry.

“Sex will still let the incubus loose, and the anger issues will always be there. Sex with Ginny _will_ make you angry, eventually. There’s no way around that. But as long as we’re together, all of us, sex with me won’t make it worse.”

Harry, finally understanding, asked, “So, do we always need to be together?”

“It doesn’t need to be always. I couldn’t do that to the two of you. Not after what I’ve already done. But, like this morning, don’t hide it from Ginny. And Ginny, you just need to acknowledge me. The the incubus has to know it has no real power over Harry, forcing him to make a decision he doesn’t want to.”

“And you’ll still be up for the rough stuff?” Harry asked.

“We’ve talked about this. It’s what I want, Harry. For better or worse, this really is not entirely a bad thing for me. The worst part about it is I almost came between the two of you. That would have been a real tragedy. But I’m yours, Harry, do with what you want. Always.”

Harry admired the sincerity in her eyes as she spoke. She really did want to be here, despite what he did to her.

“But... uh...” she stumbled over the words.

“We’re being open about everything, Daphne,” said Ginny. She continued, teasing, “Don’t stop now. Especially not when you seem to fixing it all.”

“Well, this fixes Harry, for you. But that means he needs me less. I, uh... I’m bi.”

“Er, what?” asked Harry.

“‘Bi’ is what muggles call it. I like both guys and, uh... girls,” she explained weakly.

“Oh,” said Harry, the idea of the two girls in his life together, like that, encouraging the sexual creature in him.

“Down boy,” said Ginny. Then to Daphne, she said, “I love Harry. And, well, girls never really interested me.”

“I don’t need interest, Ginny. But Harry’s not the only one who gets angry at all of this. And, frankly, your temper is quicker than his. You sometimes come home... irked,” Daphne said. “It’s not good for you, of all people, to be angry around Harry. So...”

Ginny studied Daphne. Everyone knew of Ginny’s temper. And it was true that if she was angry with Harry, or took out her anger on Harry, things got bad. They now knew it was because it confused the two parts of Harry.

“I can’t say yes. Not for certain,” said Ginny. “But, well, I guess it’s good to know there are options. Especially ones good for Harry. I guess only the future can tell.”

Daphne smiled at Ginny, happy that maybe she found another way to help Harry for what she had done. Another way that would fulfill her own needs as well.

Ginny smiled back, and then turned to Harry. She kissed him, and then lay down with him on the bed. Things were looking better. 

Harry looked to the bottom of the bed, welcoming Daphne with a lift of his eyebrow. Smiling, the blonde crawled up next to Harry’s other side, and together, the three relaxed, pondering their future together.


End file.
